


Charming and Tedious

by PippinTheRenegade



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Injury, M/M, bar fight gone wrong, hurt/help, joly putting his degree to work, not nearly as ominous as the description sounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-06-09 04:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6891007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PippinTheRenegade/pseuds/PippinTheRenegade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Montparnasse turning up on Jehan's doorstep late at night and unannounced was nothing new. Montparnasse turning up actively bleeding, however, was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Charming and Tedious

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Opium_du_Peuple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opium_du_Peuple/gifts).



> Hey, Elise, I started writing this for when you got done with classes, but life happened, so have a thing.

A heavy thump against his door drew Jehan out of the world of their book. One pale eyebrow drew upward in curiosity, and they swiveled their desk chair around slowly to stare at the door. It pushed inward against the latch, so whatever had fallen against it was still there. Interruptions, and at a turning point no less.

The poet shook their head and sighed, slipping a stray piece of paper between the pages before closing the book. "Grantaire?" they called, then waited; the cynic frequented one of the bars not far from their flat on nights without meetings and popped by when he deemed himself too far gone to make it all the way home.

"Guess again." The voice that answered definitely did not belong to Grantaire, though Jehan recognized it just as well. "Open the door, little finch; it's important."

Jehan smiled and extracted themself from the comfort of their seat. "It's unlocked, Parnasse," they chimed, delicately dancing around the piles of books and a potted plant or two that covered the floor of their living room to the door. "You know, I don't mind you dropping by whenever you feel like it, but the apartment is a mess, so you'll have to forgi- Ooooh my god, you're bleeding."

Montparnasse shot down a grin and tried his best not to fall over without the support of the door. "Keen observation, as ever," he grumbled, leaning heavily against the frame as his trust in his own knees failed. He sported a split lip and what was bound to become an impressive black eye and kept one hand pinned against a blooming red stain along his side; the way he stood, favoring his side beyond what Jehan would expect for a knife wound, spoke of cracked ribs. "Are you going to let me in, or..?"

"Yes!" Jehan gave themself a shake, though they could not draw their eyes from the red liquid creeping over Montparnasse's fingers. They side-stepped clumsily. "Yes, of course, go sit down. I'll call an ambulance, and they can-"

"No," Montparnasse growled as he stumbled passed Jehan and toward the couch. He collapsed onto the furniture and loosed a string of swears into the cushion.

Jehan cocked their head, worry and confusion mingled in their eyes. "No?" they repeated, the tone more clipped than they had intended. "You'd rather just lay there and bleed?"

Parnasse scowled, flinching as he twisted to stare at Jehan. "Preferable to prison, yeah. I don't have a- fuck!- clean record, and the moment my name turns up on a hospital server, I'm done."

Jehan huffed and snatched their phone off the desk. "Stubborn crow," they grumbled, flipping through their contacts down to "J." They clicked the name and pressed the receiver to their ear, pointing a warning finger at Montparnasse. "You are not turning my couch into a crime scene, do you hear me?"

That got a laugh, hoarse and halting. "Your couch is already a crime scene." Montparnasse tried to sit up, but the gash in his side shot another wave of pain through his ribs and drove him back into the gaudy flower print. "What are you doing?"

"Getting you help, shut up." The line connected, and Jehan's face flooded with relief. "Joly? I'm so glad it's you, _mon petit poussin_. I have a little... situation over here? And I need your help. My, uh, my cat got in a fight, and..." The voice through the phone cut them off, and Jehan gave the thing a desperate look. "No, I-I don't have a cat, you're right. It's not a cat. It's Parnasse. He's here, and he's bleeding and won't go to a hospital-"

Montparnasse cut in. "Hospitals tell cops, Jehan!"

Jehan shot him a glare. "Yeah, that was him," they mumbled into the phone and waited. "I can't call Combeferre! I can feel him judging me through the phone every time Parnasse comes up. Come on, Joly, help me out here?" Another pause, and Jehan lost the angry expression. "Okay! You know the address, the door's open, and I'll see you soon? Thank you so much, Joly, I owe you."

Jehan stuck the phone in their back pocket. "And _you_ owe _me_ ," they said, swallowing down their worry. Parnasse would be fine. "Take your shirt off."

Montparnasse slowly turned onto his side, hissing as his ribs shifted. "Oh, Prouvaire, I don't think this is really the time for that."

Jehan dragged their footstool around to sit on, their fingers working loose the buttons of Montparnasse's shirt and trying very hard to not stare at the bloodstains. "Now or when Joly gets here, it's coming off. You're lucky I'm friends with med students."

"You're so clinical. I don't like it."

"And you're an idiot."

* * *

 Fifteen minutes later, Joly took a steadying breath outside Jehan's apartment door. He had said he would help, yes, but that didn't mean he was entirely comfortable with his "patient." Montparnasse scared him, on some basal level, though their interactions had never been anything beyond introductions and whenever Parnasse came to pick Jehan up after meetings. The fear was based entirely on reputation, but he still had no idea what he would find on the other side of this door. Huffing through his nose, Joly rapped his knuckles on the door frame before letting himself in.

The scene that greeted him was a little... more than he had been expecting, but that was Jehan. Piles of books were shoved away from the couch, their normal spots occupied by a large basin of reddish water, an open first aid kit, and Jehan, perched on their stool with Montparnasse's hand in their own. Montparnasse himself looked to be in too poor a condition to intimidate anyone; his breathing came shallow, and Jehan had taped a large pad of gauze over his side to stem the bleeding from what Joly had to assume was a nasty knife wound. Angry purple bruises bloomed under the skin from the gauze and up his ribcage. Someone had done a number on him, that was for sure.

"Joly!" Jehan called, snapping the med student out of his observation. "Oh, thank god. I think I've got a handle on all the little stuff, but I think he broke a rib. Or two." They pulled a small bandage from its packaging and wrapped it around one of Parnasse's knuckles with only a minor protest.

Joly set his bag down and motioned for Jehan to give him the seat. "What happened?" he asked, retrieving a pair of gloves and a bottle of pain killers from his kit. He set the bottle down on the floor, then gently pressed his fingers to Parnasse's side.

"Bar- shit!- fight." Montparnasse yelped the moment Joly tested his ribs, his voice dissolving into a high pitched whine that carried until the medic took his hand away. "Thrown into a table. Would not, ow, recommend."

Joly moved on to the gash, gently prying the tape loose. "You're as bad as Grantaire," he muttered, too low for anyone else to hear. Different guy, same situation. Wrinkling his nose at the knife wound- they really should go to a hospital for this- he snatched the pain pills off the floor and shook it at Jehan. "Here. Give him two. This needs stitches, and I'm out of topical anesthetic."

Jehan followed their orders, crouched on the floor beside Montparnasse's head, while Joly dug out the rest of the supplies he needed. Needle and thread, antiseptic, little pads of cleaning gauze, and a pair of tweezers lined up neat and orderly on Jehan's coffee table while Montparnasse choked down the pills and complained about the taste and the ache in his side. The medicine would take a while to kick in, exactly how long depended entirely on Montparnasse, so the med student took advantage of the time. 

"Keep an eye on him," Joly said, heading to the kitchen. He ran the water in the sink a minute until it heated up enough to steam and washed up to his elbows, grumbling about stupid men and bars the whole while.

Jehan watched Joly go, their fingers gently stroking through Parnasse's curls. "See? I told you Joly would come through. You're going to be fine, _mon chaton_."

"Of course I am. With you here, how could I not be?"

"That's very sweet, Parnasse, but I'm not much help with injuries. Thank Joly when he comes back."

"I know. I'm sorry I make you worry," Parnasse muttered, the ends of his words drawing together more than usual. He sought out Jehan's face and grinned. "You're pretty, Jean Prouvaire. I don't say that enough. You're pretty, and you shouldn't have to worry over me because I do something stupid."

Jehan pressed their lips together in a concerned line, which drew an uncharacteristic giggle out of Montparnasse. "Uh, Joly?" Their voice wavered, gaze trailing slowly up toward the kitchen door. "What exactly did you have me give him?"

Joly reappeared, water dripping from his elbows and a towel in his hands. "A fast-acting opioid," he stated, draping the towel over the end of the couch as he rounded the corner. "How out of it is he?" He snapped his fingers over Montparnasse's face. The criminal managed a half-focused scowl. "Hm. Quicker than I thought. I'll have to keep that in mind for next time."

"Next time?" Jehan repeated, mildly distressed.

"Yes, next time. It's useful information, you know, knowing how long it takes a drug like that to effect someone. As a doctor, mind you." Joly worked as he spoke, tweezers between his fingers and gently tugging at a shard of glass embedded in his patient's side. "Good lord, what did they stab you with, a beer bottle?"

Montparnasse made a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh and wobbled his head in what could have been a nod. "Bastards," he muttered, squirming on the couch when Joly switched to the disinfectant until Jehan stroked his cheek soothingly.

"Does it hurt?" they asked.

Parnasse shook his head. "Just cold."

Joly frowned, fishing a pair of scissors out of his bag. "It's going to hurt if you don't stop moving," he said, pulling loose a length of thread for the needle. "Jehan, I really do mean that. Make sure he stays still. I don't want to make this any worse than it already is."

Jehan nodded and stretched a steadying hand over their boyfriend's chest. "Parnasse, look at me," they said softly. He did and smiled again. "Good. Watch me until Joly's done, okay?" They traced a finger of their free hand over Parnasse's jaw, cradling his face to keep his attention up. Their other hand pressed gently against his chest, just enough for him to know he shouldn't move.

They stayed still together while Joly worked, Jehan muttering encouragements and smiling and Montparnasse trying to keep his eyes focused with only a little success. The snip of scissors and a satisfied noise signaled that the medic was finished, though the only response he received was a slight glance his way before Jehan focused on the injury. Joly taped a fresh bandage back over it, then busied himself with putting his tools away. 

"I can't do anything for the ribs," Joly sighed, stripping the gloves from his fingers. "He's got two broken ones, and they'll have to heal on their own. He needs to rest for a while."

"Joly-"

"No barfights or murders or whatever it is he does with his time for a few days."

"Joly."

"I'll leave you a list of what to do, wound care wise. And you know you can always call me if you need anything, though I would definitely prefer it not be so late next time, and-"

"Joly!"

"What?"

Jehan smiled at him fondly. "I had to help Bahorel through a cracked rib once before, so I think have that part covered. The stitches is new for me, but I'm pretty sure we can handle things from here. Text me that list, though; reminders are helpful. I mostly just need to know what to do with him right now." They watched Parnasse for a minute and shook their head; he was humming something incredibly off-key and tracing the flower patterns on the couch with his finger.

Joly paused for a moment. "Stay up with him until that drug wears off. Four hours, tops. If he's still acting strange after that, call me again. Or a hospital, as much as he would hate that."

"You got it." Jehan made a mock salute. "Do you want me to walk you out?"

He snapped his bag closed and rose off the stool. "No, I think I can manage. Anything else?"

"Can I move him to the bed?"

Joly took a long minute, staring down at Jehan. "Once he can move himself, yes," he said at last, "but he does have to rest, Jehan. He should probably be left alone..?"

"Good lord, Joly, I wouldn't do anything to him!" Jehan flapped at him, shooing him toward the door. "The most I'll do is sit by the bed, I promise, scout's honor. Whatever."

Joly snorted a laugh. "You're not a scout, Jehan."

"Thank you, Joly, and good night!"

 

**Author's Note:**

> All of my medical experience is with animals, so, I dunno. Fight me over inaccuracies, I guess.
> 
> You wanna know where you can fight me? Well, that would be over [here](http://theblazeofmemory.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. That's where all the screaming happens.


End file.
